Dean Wants To Know, Why Cats?
by everyone'ssister
Summary: After a witch the boys are hunting proves to be a little more wily than they thought, Sam is stuck with a little problem...Dean. Who has become very little indeed. Can Sam fix Dean? Can he keep him alive until he does?
1. Chapter 1

DEAN WANTS TO KNOW, WHY CATS?

Chapter 1.

She was a wily one, this witch. Dean decides he can't wait to Molotov the bitch as he kneels behind a knocked over wardrobe in her living room. Oh yes, he was pissed like you couldn't believe. Some skinny, hairy, hippie chick with wild, strawberry blond hair had gotten the better of both him and Sam and now a very simple job had turned disastrous.

She was standing in her kitchen, the bar between her and the Winchester brothers, who were hiding behind her living room furniture. The pale green dress she was wearing looked like she'd been in it for the last decade of her life, and even though the piece of clothing couldn't have clothed one of Dean's arms it hung off her stick frame like a flour sack.

She was chanting in some foreign language, one Dean didn't recognize, but he would have bet good money Sam did. She was throwing an assortment of fine powders into a bronze, ornate basin and the remnants were floating in the air in sick greenish clouds making Dean feel claustrophobic and even more ill.

Sam was frantically motioning at him apparently trying to tell him what she was about to do (and it wasn't good) as he was preparing the mason jar of witch TNT since she had cracked and destroyed their first.

"I don't know what you're saying!" He yells at Sam, over the chanting of the witch.

"STOP HER!" Sam yells back at him emphatically, obviously worried about what she was trying to achieve and scrambling for the last ingredient, which has skidded up under the over turned sofa.

Dean doesn't second guess his brother. He leaps to his feet and hurdles himself over the bar towards the haggard witch. She shrieks something incoherent in her strange language, Dean's elbow knocks the bowl of bright orange powder out of her hand...it falls with a clouded poof into the already prepared basin of sickly colorful powders.

They both freeze...as well as Sam, staring at the bowl. Dean and the witch's gazes meet...Dean bends and his hand shoots out lightening fast for the bronze dagger on the witch's kitchen bar...she however grabs the basin and dumps it over Dean's bent head in a rainbow cloud of dust.

"Dean!" Sam yells, stuffing the jar with the last of the ingredients and diving for the couple in the kitchen.

Dean hacks hoarsely at the dense atmosphere and bends in half as it burns his lungs and eyes like fiery daggers. In a flash the witch twists Dean's wrist back painfully and Sam hears the stomach turning crack.

"Argghhh!" Dean yells, "SONUVABITCH!" He tries to twist back and jerk his wrist from her surprisingly tight grip but fails as the pain overrides his senses.

He's too late though...she catches the dagger where it's fallen from his limp hand. In the blink of an eye she slices across his palm, and squeezes brutally causing the blood to drip down into the powdered film on his clothes...he watches her eyes alight as she realizes she has succeeded...she whispers a few weird and broken syllables out and...he feels really strange, almost like he's caving in, it feels like his clothes are shrinking...like his skin isn't big enough to hold him anymore...

Sam yells as the witch dumps the powdery substance on his brother, he sees and hears the painful break, watches in horror as she slices a deep wound into the soft flesh of his palm and squeezes the precious crimson liquid onto his brother's clothes. He watches a few fateful, whisperings fall from her chapped, stained lips and then his eyes leap to Dean's face.

He watches Dean look into the witch's eyes as he realizes she's done something inexcusable. Sam's heart is seized with terror as he watches pain morph his brother's features.

"Dean...!" He yells, a hand reaching for him as his brother goes to his knees...his eyes widen in shock as with a poof of colorful dust his brother's EMPTY clothes fall to the kitchen floor.

Sam lifts panic blown eyes to the witch's face...

"You BITCH!" He grounds out, leaping over the bar towards her, "What'd you do with him!?"

They both fall to the ground in a heap of long, thickly muscled limbs; Sam, and gangly beanpoles; the witch.

"Imma kill you," Sam threatens from between clenched teeth, in an uncharacteristic lust for violence. Both are struggling in the small room to regain their feet while trying to fight each other off. He thrusts her roughly against the bar both hands on her shoulders.

"Where...IS HE?!" He yells in her face and then...then there is a gentle sound. So soft, and pure, and innocent in the buzzing, violent atmosphere. A kind of purring whine, a mewling moan, a sort of sweet...meow.

Sam's head jerks to the left, towards the empty pile of clothes that once held his big brother...and there is almost imperceivable movement...something is alive, something is DEAN under all those clothes.

The witch jerks herself from under Sam's surprised hands and slips between his legs, and shoots over the floor on her stomach towards Dean's clothes. Knowing her life is safer with one of the brothers in her power for liability, she is intent on gaining the upper hand.

Sam's world slows into creeping seconds...

All he knows is that the last piece of Dean he can hear and see is under that pile of jeans and plaid and that the slinky, little snake that has hurt him is about to gain that, is about to take that from him...

So he throws himself towards the witch's small body, lighting the mason jar he holds in his hand with the lighter he's slipped from his pocket. He lands between the witch and the pile of Dean's clothes. He uses his booted foot and gives her a savage kick in her stomach and sends her slamming into the kitchen cabinets, he throws the igniting mason jar at her small body and then in lightening speed turns. As the jar explodes, Sam lands hard facing the bundle of Dean's clothes and pulls it towards his chest protectively, curving his body around it.

The witch screams and is gone in a puff of oily, smelly smoke.

The hot flames are catching to the dry, aged house quickly and spreading angrily...

Sam gathers the bundle of clothing into his arms, feeling something solid in their midst. He cradles the warm lump wrapped in plaid to his chest, dashes from the burning house and disappears behind a line of trees. He gains the dirt road and races towards the impala.

tbc...

Confession time; I LOVE kitty!fics, so this is gonna be mine!

PLEASE REVIEW!

thank you


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Sam slips into the driver's seat of the impala and tries to slow his breath. His hands are shaking with the adrenaline rushing through his system as he begins to peel the layers of material away. First goes the big heavy boots, then the tangled up jeans, and then two worn socks. He pulls the t-shirt out of the plaid over shirt and out drops a very small kitten with orange and white fur.

Sam stares. For at least a minute. It's not until the kitten turns and lands his HUGE eyes on him, that he is broken from his daze. It blinks its wide, vividly GREEN almond-shaped eyes at him, and lets out a little whine from its throat. Sam can't believe this is ALL of DEAN. And it's so small, he's hoping the witch hasn't permanently hurt his brother by making him so compacted.

"Dean," he says softly, "Is that you?"

The kitten just blinks up at him, great, big green eyes falling closed and lethargically opening again, the sunlight reflecting off of them and making them sparkle.

Sam smiles.

"So," he says, "Definitely some sort of spell...its definitely you but not human you...can you understand me?" He questions.

The kitten just stares at him, paws flexing and relaxing against the plaid it's still wrapped in. It gives a pained meow as Sam shifts the bundle in his lap.

Hesitantly Sam reaches his big hand towards the tinny kitten. The kitty looks at it suspiciously for a moment and then pushes it's wet nose against Sam's middle finger, smelling him and testing how safe he is.

"Dean?" Sam asks again, and this time the sparkling emerald eyes jump up to his face, sharp with recognition. Sam sighs in relief and gently rubs the kitten down from the top of its head all the way down its small body and over its tail.

"It is you, isn't it?" He gushes in relief, and Dean purrs, vibrating his whole tiny body and pushes his head into Sam's hand for more petting.

Sam scratches Dean under his chin with one of his long fingers and Dean purrs some more, pushing towards Sam for more. Sam runs his hand down the little body again and then sighs.

"We better be getting out of here, Dean," he says. From Dean's coat pocket he retrieves the car keys and then he spreads the navy blue corduroy coat on the passenger seat and and gently lifts and places Dean in his bundle of plaid on top of it. The cat lets out a miserable mewling sound and Sam freezes, panicky with the thought he's done something to hurt his very tiny brother.

He suddenly remembers the witch cutting his brother deep, and the disgusting breaking sound. He holds his breath, praying that the wounds haven't transferred over, such a nasty break on such a small creature would be dangerous and hard to treat.

He turns his body towards Dean where he's resting in his plaid bundle and as gently as he can he peels the shirt away. The red is unmistakable on the plaid material...a lot of it. Suddenly the lethargic behavior makes more sense. Sam quickly and as deftly as he can lifts Dean into his hand and pulls his front left leg up with his other to examine the paw where the ugly wound is still seeping blood.

"No, no, no," he says desperately in the quiet car, as he can feel Dean's small body shaking in his hand, he's hoping beyond hopes the foot is not broken as it sits at a weird angle.

Dean looks up at him at his words, eyes still lazily coasting open and closed, "Meoowww," he whines. Sam smiles and laughs a little hopelessly.

"Okay," he breathes deep and exhales loudly, causing Dean's whiskers to flutter in the air. "You need a vet...like right now so...I saw one in town, across from the library..." He sets Dean back down in his plaid and corduroy nest and sits staring at him.

He realizes he's waiting for Dean to okay a trip to the "Doctor", Dean is staring at him expectantly, a little pink tongue making an appearance to swipe over his little pink nose.

"Oh right, okay, so we're going." Sam sighs and quickly cranks the impala, he pulls onto the highway knowingly breaking the speed limit. Dean seems pretty content in the car, purring a duet with Baby and keeping glassy green eyes on Sam the whole time.

Sam pulls into the vet parking lot and carefully parks the impala away from other vehicles, keeping human Dean in mind. He pulls cat Dean to him still wrapped in the plaid shirt, thinking it might help him feel more secure his first time seeing a place other than the impala and seeing people other than Sam as a cat, not to mention other animals.

Sam pulls Dean to his chest and steps out of the impala and shuts the door, locking it. The purring has stopped and Dean's eyes are alert.

"It's alright, Dean," he soothes quietly as they approach the front door, "I'm gonna be here the whole time looking out for you, okay? It's all going to be fine..."

Sam opens the door and they step inside. He immediately feels Dean tense, and then the shaking intensifies, Dean turns within his plaid bundle and burrows his head into the crook between Sam's body and arm. Sam frowns and passes a soothing thumb over the back of Dean's neck and rubs distractedly as he waits for someone to come to the glass window.

A heavy set older woman approaches the window and slides it open, she smiles taking in the sight before her. A giant of a man protectively cradling a tiny little kitten, wrapped in a shirt, to his chest. Sometimes people amaze her, sometimes animals bring out the best in people.

"What can I do for you, sir?" She asks, in a subdued tone, conscience of other clients with animals in the waiting area.

Sam leans forward a little and speaks as quietly as he can so as not to startle Dean who was still trembling. "Do you have an emergency service here?" He asks.

She nods and smiles kindly, "What's wrong with your pet, sir? We have to see if you qualify for our emergency services."

Sam's smile is stretched, as if he didn't know what an EMERGENCY SITUATION was!

"Deep cut on the left front paw, I think it's broken too," he says.

She gives him a kind, but appraising look, "Let me take a look?" She asks.

Sam sighs and gives her a bitch face as he gently pulls Dean from under his arm and carefully removes the material from the paw. The lady hisses as she catches sight of wound, "Oh yeah, I'd say that qualified...come on back." She motions towards the double doors.

Sam is through them and in the back in a minute, from there Dean is extracted from the plaid shirt and Sam. Dean meows loudly as he's taken away from him, and Sam hopes this isn't too traumatic for a newly transformed kitten. He watches with a tight and pinched feeling in his heart as Dean disappears behind a swinging door in the doctor's arms.

...

Sam waits for an hour, feeling silly for pacing in a vet, but seriously if they were in a hospital he'd be pacing. He had just as much chance and more of losing Dean now that he was so small and unable to protect himself. He gets a few weird looks so he sits back down in the hall on one of the hard, plastic chairs and squeezes his clasped hands between his legs.

How could have a hunt gone any more wrong?

If he had just been prepared, if he had made two or three mason jars of witch TNT instead of one like an amateur they wouldn't be here right now. Further more he should have had the presence of mind to somehow bind the bitch so she couldn't have talked, should have told Dean that's what he needed to stop, not the actual witch...just what she was chanting.

He runs stressed fingers over his face and stares with burning eyes at the floor, oh God, please let Dean be okay.

"Mr Krae?" The buxom motherly lady from before addressed him.

"Yes?" He asked hopefully, on his feet in a second.

"You can follow me," she said smiling, "You're kitten is fine. He's asleep...just general anesthesia because a few stitches had to be but in for the cut in the paw," she explains to Sam's alarmed look.

She leads him into a small room where he finds Dean lying in a small cage carpeted by a sterile, white towel.

The sight nearly makes Sam sick. He opens the cage quickly and picks up Dean's lax body into his hand and cradles him carefully against his chest. The woman gives him an odd look but closes the cage door after him with no comment.

"Thankfully the paw wasn't broken," she continued, leading him towards the desk, "Just terribly wrenched and so forth sprained...a few days to a week you won't even be able to tell about that...though it will take a little longer for the cut to heal. But if you keep that bandaged and clean he should have a uneventful recovery." She smiles brightly at him and hands the bill over.

Sam pays right out of his wallet, he never wants to come back here, somehow the sight of Dean so small and vulnerable locked up in a cage has terrified him. He knows he must get Dean to the bunker as fast as he can and fix this, because he can't take that again. That feeling of fear and despair that someone might euthanize a little kitten to rid the world of another piece of vermin, or that Dean would be caught and put in some cage to be poked and prodded at until someone decided to adopt him and take him into their home. And Sam didn't care if it would be a good home or not, he just knows it wouldn't be theirs.

As Sam waits for the woman to bring a bag of bandages and animal painkillers he wraps Dean back up in the plaid shirt, avoiding the blood-stained part. He carefully pulls the little bandaged paw out and places it on the outside of the bundle so that neither one of them would accidentally hurt it. The woman smiles at him fondly as she hands him the bag and his receipt.

Sam leaves and doesn't look back. He places Dean back on the passenger seat in the midst of the plaid shirt and the navy blue, corduroy coat, making sure he was well insulated on all sides. He sighs in relief and cranks the impala, leaving the music at a bare hum, and takes off for Lebanon, Kansas.

After being in the road a whole four hours Sam is staring to get hungry. Which brings to mind that he's going to need some stuff for Dean until he gets changed back. He looks over at the sleeping bundle...already he's attached. Obviously it was Dean, but Sam was fast becoming enthralled with the little orange and white version of his brother.

There's no way he's leaving Dean alone in the car, or anywhere for that matter. So he grabs his phone and searches for Pet Smarts in 'Near You'. (Sam always knew his knowledge of all things pets would benefit them someday.) There's one in Lebanon come to find out, and they're only an hour away...so he decides he can wait to eat until then too.

Sam is well and truly in love as he keeps an eye on the little creature on the seat beside him. In his sleep Dean's breath will speed up, his little chest heaving, and then slow, his paw will come up to swipe over his face and get caught his whiskers. In the late afternoon sunlight the orange fur is aglow and the white is sparkling like snow. Sam takes the first opportunity he's had to appreciate how beautiful Dean is as a cat.

The orange is a rich but bright hue, the white is selective, it gives him snowy mittens and a vest, his tail looks as though the end was dipped in a can of white paint. His face also bears some white stripes and his whiskers are pure white too. The inside of his ears are a tender pink, and so is the sensitive tissue around his eyes.

Sam lets his hand ghost down and coast over his tiny little head. His whole palm could have covered two of the little cat heads. Dean's paw was the size of the pad of Sam's pinkie finger. Sam smiles as Dean's back legs lifts the scratch behind his ear in his sleep, disturbing the warm cocoon and letting in some cold air.

Sam keeps an eye on the road, but he's watching as Dean awakes for any sign of pain or tell of a more intensive injury. The kitten's eyes blink lazily awake and Dean hides his face in the flannel from the sun. Sam rubs his thumb over the little head.

"Hey Dean," he says softly. And Dean's big green eyes shoot to his face and Sam smiles.

Dean blinks at him, and the little pink tongue shoots out and licks his nose and lips. He yawns still looking at Sam. Then he gathers himself and stands in the soft material, slightly unstable and definitely favoring his front left leg, but still putting weight on it, so Sam thinks maybe it's not as bad as he feared.

He watches as Dean clumsily fights his way out of the plaid nest and tumbles into the navy blue corduroy one. He falls onto his stomach and from there rolls to his side where he gives himself a long lick from his shoulder down to his bandaged paw. Sam watches as he licks over it and then starts to bite at it.

"Dean," he says, a hand coming to rub over Dean's head and distract him from the white bandage, "Don't do that, it's there to help you."

Dean immediately becomes intent on pushing his head into Sam's hand for more petting and when Sam has to give more of his attention to driving as they coast into busy Lebanon Dean rights himself and limps in chase of Sam's hand. Sam looks down to find Dean with his front paws propped up on his thigh staring at him adoringly with big, shiny green eyes.

Sam smiles and gives Dean what he wants, a rub that starts on his head and goes all the way down his body. Dean purrs and arches his back into Sam's hand. Sam laughs as Dean licks his thumb urging him to pet him some more. He pets Dean all the way through town with long even strokes, by the time they pull up in front of Pet Smart Dean is purring so much his entire little body is vibrating and Sam can hear it over the music and the impala's roar.

"Okay Dean," Sam breathes, "We gotta pick up some stuff, so you be good for me okay?" He picks the small kitten up cupped in his hands and looks him the eye. Dean blinks his bright emeralds at him, and looks as though he could NEVER do anything wrong. He gives Sam's hand a lick with his prickly tongue.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sam says and opens the door and climbs out. He cups Dean in one hand, holding him against his chest so he's other hand is free. He locks the doors and then walks into the Pet Smart. As he walks through the doors he feels Dean tense and looks around to find two other consumers holding dogs on leashes.

Sam likes dogs. But at the moment he eyes them as his worst enemy. Thankfully they seem to be keeping strictly to the dog segment of the store. Sam slips by them, rubbing Dean reassuringly, and grabs them a shopping cart and slips into the cat section. Sam's knowledge on cats is more limited than with dogs, but he's going to safely guess he needs a litter box, and kitty litter, dry and canned food, and if kitty Dean is anything like human Dean...toys. God forbid Dean ever get bored.

He throws the most expensive dry food into the cart, wanting to make sure and take good care of his brother while Dean was unable too, well he was always unable to. He decides Dean would probably like chicken better then fish and gets five cans.

"Do we have milk at home?" He wonders out loud, and watches Dean's ears perk up at his voice and he turns his head to gaze at Sam. Sam sighs, "You'd be the one to know, too." Dean was their housekeeper. Things kind of just appeared and when they used it up it would kind of be magically restocked...Dean would never admit it, but he was SO domestic.

Sam pushed the cart one handed down the aisles holding Dean close to him, and stopped once they got to the cat toys. Sam thought animal toys were creepy. They had big beady eyes, and had bright colors, and some of them were loud...and believe Sam if there was ANY possible way for Dean to be loud he was going to be LOUD.

He picked up one stuffed mouse with blue and red stripes and looked at it. The eyes were buttons...so not creepy and the colors weren't awfully bright, he showed it to Dean, waving it in front of him.

"You like this one Dean?" He asked, Dean swatted at it lazily with his good paw, and blinked up as to say that it was a boring toy.

Sam sighs and puts it back, "They're all creepy," he holds up a really spooky looking octopus with huge glossy plastic eyes in disgust. Dean meows deep in his throat and pushes himself closer to Sam AWAY from the toy.

"Yeah see," Sam laughs. "Here, what about this one?" He picks up another toy, it has three cloth balls attached to each other and the colors red, blue, and green. On the end hangs a tassel of matching colors and, to Sam's dismay, a singly silver bell.

Dean immediately reaches out with his good paw and swipes at the string holding the bell. It dings clearly, and Dean does it again, he even wriggles a little against Sam's chest to get closer to it.

"Okay, you like this one," Sam laughs, and throws it into the shopping cart.

They walked down the aisle some more until Sam sees some powdered milk and a special bottle just for cats. He looks at Dean with an appraising eye.

"How old are you?" He wonders, "Do you still need milkies?" He asks snorting a laugh, knowing Dean would be so pissed if he understood him right now. However the kitty blinks up at him seriously and swats at his chin with the non bandaged paw, eyes sparkling in the over head fluorescent lights.

"Well," he decides, "I'm not bottle feeding my big brother anything, so I'll get you milk Dean, but no bottle." Dean seems to be in agreement as he purrs against Sam's fingers which are holding him safely to his chest. He puts a box of the powdered milk into the cart and the makes his way towards the check out area.

He stops when he sees the collar counter and the machine that makes the plates with owner identification. He is sick with the thought of putting a collar on Dean, but he's even more afraid of losing his brother in his vulnerable state.

"Dean I swear, I'll only put it on you if we have to go out, okay?" Sam feels better when Dean purrs back to him understandingly. He gets the tags made out for "Dean" with the owner name of "Sam Winchester" and his cell number. There is no way he'd put a fake ID on Dean, he needed to be sure they would work.

He picks out the smallest collar they have, which is still almost too big on Dean. He goes to the counter where the tag and the collar is attached. Then he takes all their items to the cash register. The cashier helps him since it seems Dean is as hesitant as Sam to part with his brother, no matter what size or form.

He pays and thanks the cashier and take their bags in one hand and hurries out into the parking lot. It's getting dark, and he'd rather not be out at night with a minuscule kitten. He nearly drops Dean while opening the door, and Dean meows painfully latching his one good paw's claws into Sam's shirt.

Sam immediately drops the bags and cups both hands securely around the little kitten, pressing him safely against his chest.

"Sorry Dean," he soothes, rubbing his thumb under Dean's chin, "I gotcha."

He unlocks the passenger door and throws in their bags. Then he goes around and climbs into the driver's seat. He gives Dean a few more reassuring rubs and then sets him down in the familiar depths of his plaid shirt. Dean whines a meow at being set aside and being away from Sam's familiarity and warmth so Sam pulls the plaid bundle up against the side of his leg. Dean presses the entire left side of his body against Sam's thigh, and Sam can feel him vibrating with a contented purr as he cranks the impala.

Satisfied that he has everything he's going to need for the foreseeable future with kitten Dean, Sam turns his mind towards himself and the rumbling in his own stomach. He stops by a diner he and Dean visit regularly while at the bunker and gets himself a grilled chicken sandwich and salad. He places the paper bag of food on the other side of Dean, those big green eyes watching him all the time.

He points the impala towards home. He's so ready to be safe in the bunker's confines. To have Dean locked away with him, to get Dean comfortable and SAFE...he cannot believe how stressful and frightening it is to be responsible for someone who can't take care of themselves. He's loving Dean's kitty cuteness but his brother deserves to be human, to be the strong man he knows how to be so insecurely perfect.

Dean is now rubbing the side of his face into Sam's thigh, so Sam's drops his hand down and rubs gently behind his ears and under his chin.

"Let's get you home Dean," he says gently, and Dean pushes his head into Sam's hand and licks it, purring like a motor boat.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you

Could you imagine being in Pet Smart and rounding the corner and just seeing Sam Winchester standing there with a kitten holding up toys for it too choose? Pretty sure I would die, right there, from the cuteness.

(I wasn't at all expressing an opinion in favor of euthanizing animals, just that it is something that is done.)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Sam parks the impala in the bunker's garage and uncranks her. Dean's purring stops immediately and he looks up at Sam with big disapproving eyes. Sam rolls his eyes and opens the door swinging his legs out and scooping up Dean and his plaid nest, gathering his supper and Dean's supplies with his other hand.

He walks through the bunker to the kitchen and leaves the things there. Then he goes back to the garage and pops the trunk on the car and starts to pull their things out. He sits Dean down inside on the carpeted floor and begins to sort through the crazily confused weapons and personal belongings.

He stuffs Dean's colt and his personal salt gun into his brother's duffel. Into his he stuffs the laptop and several men of letters files. He swings the bags over both shoulders, scoops Dean back up and grabs the weapon bag with his free hand. He closes the trunk feeling like a ninja.

He leaves the weapons bag on the map table and then makes for their bedrooms. Dean is blinking up at the bunker walls pretty uninterestedly and Sam thinks either Dean recognizes it or a little of that anesthesia is still wearing off, because he thought curiosity killed the cat. He flips the switch on his room and the lights come on. He places his duffel on his bed, and then he walks to Dean's room.

He opens the door and walks to the bedside table and switches on the lamp the way Dean likes it. He leaves Dean's duffel on the bed and sets Dean down by it. He unzips the bag and sorts out the dirty clothes, not sure how long Dean will be a cat, and not wanting dirty clothes to stay dirty for that long.

Dean presses his front paws into the mattress as if testing it. He blinks up at Sam who is busy so he takes a few unsure steps across the great soft expanse. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye as Dean pads his way across the bed to the pillow at the head. He noses across it and then flops down on his side with his back pressed against the pillow. He makes himself right at home.

Sam smiles. He knows there's still something of his brother left in that little head. Dean looks so cute curled up at the head of the huge bed. Sam finishes unpacking and then taps the mattress with his hand.

"C'mon Dean," he says, "Let's go eat supper."

Dean looks up at him hesitantly, obviously comfortable. "C'mon," Sam tries again, "I'm tired too."

Ever the selfless one, no matter what form he's in, Dean immediately rises and limps over to Sam's waiting hands. Sam scoops him up and hold him close to his chest in what has become both their positions, with Dean feeling secure and safe in Sam's hands.

Sam walks to the kitchen and there he opens one of the cans of chicken and scoops some out into a saucer. He covers it and warms it in the microwave. Then he mixes some of the powdered milk with warm water like the instructions said and pours it into their smallest coffee cup.

He lays Dean's dinner out on the table beside his and then sits and lifts Dean onto the table.

He unwraps his chicken sandwich and opens the lid on his salad, laying knife and fork in readiness. "Alright," he motions to Dean, "Dig in."

Dean sniffs around the warm chicken, and then sticks in his nose into his milk, sneezing drops all over the table. Sam snorts a laugh and Dean looks up at him at the sound.

"You can do it," Sam says, and pulls the saucer closer to Dean who lowers his head more carefully and testily licks the milk. Sam watches as the tiny pink tongue flicks out over his nose to retrieve the drop of milk there. Dean purrs as he gets his first taste of the creamy liquid and starts lapping away.

Sam smiles and digs into his own supper, feeling like he hasn't eaten in days instead of just hours. Dean peacefully laps up all his milk, Sam watches as he rubs his tongue along the porcelain thoroughly cleaning off any remnants of the creamy substance. Sam pushes the saucer of chicken next to the empty milk cup, Dean looks up at him.

"You gotta eat Dean, not just milk, want to be a strong kitty don't you?"

"Meow," Dean answers shortly, green eyes following Sam's chicken sandwich up to his mouth with his eyes and then back down to the paper wrapping.

"It's the same thing," Sam says, pushing the saucer under Dean's nose, "It's the same thing I got, Dean."

Dean sniffs the chicken and then steps aside the saucer and takes a few hesitant steps towards Sam, looking at him with big inquisitive eyes. Sam thinks that he's the cutest thing he's ever seen, as Dean stands there gazing at him with his bandaged paw daintily held up off the table top. Dean lets out another whining mewl and stares at Sam beseechingly.

Sam slides the saucer under Dean's nose, and picks up a little piece of chicken in between his fingers and offers it to Dean, holding it up to his mouth. Dean licks the piece of soft chicken, but instead of taking it from his fingers like Sam hoped, he starts licking down Sam's finger, lapping up the sauce and juice from his chicken sandwich.

Sam laughs at the feeling of his prickly tongue against his skin, Dean jumps a little and looks up at him, "Fine," Sam huffs.

He pinches off a piece and holds it up to Dean's mouth like before. Dean licks again, and then takes the piece in his mouth from Sam's hand from there it falls to the table. He bends his head and eats it apparently enjoying it.

Sam sighs and tears off a few more pieces and places them on the table where Dean had dropped the last one. If kitty Dean is anything like human Dean there was no denying him what he wanted. Dean lets Sam eat in peace, it takes him the the duration of Sam's meal to chew up the small bites of chicken. When Sam finishes with his salad he gets up and rinses out the milk cup and fills it with cool water. He places it in front of Dean who crouches down, drinking eagerly.

As Dean drinks Sam cleans up their supper mess, and fills the litter box with kitty litter. He can't decide the best place for it, definitely not the kitchen, human Dean would kill him. Not his room, he does not want it in there, or in the bathroom. He decides to but it in one of the corners in the library. He carries it, and Dean, into the library and leaves Dean on the floor as he goes to clear a place for his litter box.

He places it in a convenient, closed off corner in one of the alcoves. He stands to call Dean, only to nearly step on him as Dean appears between his legs, little tail curling around one of his ankles.

"This is where you do your business, Dean," he says, and pushes Dean towards it.

He leaves Dean to 'do his business' and lays out his laptop and gets some files ready for research...in the morning. He's so tired his eyes are burning and he's yawning more than he's breathing. He goes to see if Dean is through, and finds some evidence that Dean has taken advantage of the litter box.

He's about to call out to him when the little orange kitten appears and limps his way to Sam's feet and stands there blinking up at him. Sam smiles and picks him up holding him close to his chest again. Dean purrs as Sam pets him on the way to his room.

Sam opens the door to Dean's bedroom and walks in. He needs to take a shower and he's decided if Dean is going to tear anything up as a kitten it will be his own belongings. And he really hopes that doesn't happen because Dean will be blaming him when he gets back.

He rubs Dean one more time before he sets him down on the floor. "Alright, I'm going to take a shower, so you be good and I'll be right back, okay?" He steps over the kitten and walks out the door and closes it. The little meow that follows after him almost has him going to bed without a shower but he decides he's going to have to bathe some time, Dean might as well get use to it.

For the record it's the fastest shower Sam's ever taken and that's saying something. He dresses in his sweats and t-shirt and towel drys his hair, throwing the towel to the floor on his way out the door.

The bunker is quiet, no incessant meowing which Sam guesses is a good thing. He opens Dean's door slowly, expecting a little kitty to be right at the base of it. To his surprise he doesn't spot Dean anywhere around the door. He's looking desperately around when a ball of orange fur on the bed catches his eye.

Dean is laying curled up like before, with his back pressed up against the pillow, blinking sleepily at Sam not even bothering to get up when he enters. Sam sighs and smiles fondly. He doesn't know how the tiny kitten managed to get up on the bed but he hasn't made a mess or torn anything up, Dean actually looks pretty damn cute.

"I guess you're tired too, huh?" He asks, waking into the room and falling into the bed on his stomach, laying his head on the mattress so as not to disturb Dean. Dean purrs, eyes shutting in contentment as Sam pets his head and down his curled up body.

"Good night, Dean," he whispers, his own eyes falling closed.

...

When Sam wakes up he's entirely rested, and his eyes have that heavy burning feeling that only comes after a long, deep sleep. He's laying on his back now, one arm is thrown over his stomach and the other is curved around a warm, soft bundle tucked in the crook of his elbow. He yawns and rubs the sleep from his eyes with his free hand and looks down at the warm bundle.

Dean is curled up in the crook of his arm, back pressed against Sam's rib age, sleeping calmly, deep breaths rising and falling in his little body. His purr while asleep isn't the motor boat roar that's Sam's accustomed to but a gentle sweet rumble, that reminds Sam of Dean's voice when he's trying to comfort his little brother. He smiles fondly at the thought, and laughs silently at the the thought that he and Dean just shared a bed.

Dean was going to be so pissed.

As Sam shakes with his quiet chuckle, Dean stretches and his tiny kitten mouth opens in a wide yawn and affords Sam with a good view of his minuscule white teeth and dark pink mouth and tongue. Dean's stretch leaves him on his back looking at Sam upside down with big green eyes.

"Good morning Dean," he yawns and tickles Dean's stomach with the tips of his fingers. Dean purrs in response and places his tiny paws on Sam's wrist as if to keep his hand on him. Sam likes the feeling of the warm pads of his paws, and uses his other hand to pet Dean thoroughly. Dean closes his eyes and the purring escalates back to motor boat mode.

Sam yawns again and rubs the side of his face deeper into the pillow looking at Dean, "We really need to get up, got some work to do...gotta figure out how to get you changed back."

Dean blinks at him where he's rolled onto his tummy and Sam's hand is now coasting from the top of his head and down his back to gently pull through the fur on his little tail. Sam sighs, smiling a little as he scoops him up in his arms and rises himself. He nearly stubs his toe on the door jam as he makes his way sleepily to the kitchen.

First things first coffee, always. Always, always coffee first, Sam could do anything with coffee. He pours water into the maker and fills a filter with coffee grinds and leaves it brewing. He takes Dean into the library to the litter box and boots up his laptop. Dean runs back to him when he's finished and he picks him up to make their way back to the kitchen.

Sam mixes Dean another cup of warm milk and serves it to him on the table, as he pours him a cup of coffee and fixes a bowl of cereal. He sits down in his seat and Dean looks up at him where his head is bent over his milk, white substance reflecting in his big green eyes.

Sam wolfs down his cereal, as Dean finishes the last of his milk and Sam pours a little of the dry cat food out into the cup. He takes his coffee cup in hand and sips the black liquid relishing the taste a Dean crunches the cat food. Soon Dean his licking his lips and licking his front half down as if to clean up after breakfast. Sam laughs at him as he topples over trying to get a spot on his tummy up under his front leg.

"Alright Dean," he says standing with his coffee cup in hand and scooping Dean into his free hand and holding him to his chest. "Let's go start some laundry."

Dean seems to like the feeling of Sam talking as he lays against his chest, and purrs loudly. Sam can feel his tiny body vibrating against him. Sam grabs their laundry basket and then walks to his room piling his dirty clothes in, and then walks to Dean's room where he gathers the dirty laundry, including Dean's corduroy jacket and the bloody plaid shirt. He places Dean in the basket amongst the clothes so he can carry the laundry, his coffee and Dean all at the same time.

He loads their dirty clothes into the washer and scrubs the blood from Dean's plaid at the wash room sink with some SHOUT. He tosses it in with the rest of the clothes, adds laundry detergent, and pushes start. Dean watches this all from the floor with big inquisitive eyes, backing away from all Sam's noise against the wall, but purrs loudly when Sam picks him up again running fingers down the back of his head and down his spine to his tail.

Sam outs Dean down once they reach the library and watches as Dean limps towards the litter box and Sam is happy to decide kitten Dean was just about as cleanly as human Dean. Sam sits and immediately starts his research. Starting with the web and from there leaning on the men of letters knowledge.

Dead makes his way back over to Sam, and after a few minutes without Sam picking him up, Dean places himself between Sam's booted feet and settles down for a nap. Purr going back to a quiet rumble, vibrating against the side of Sam's boot.

It's the timer on the washing machine that breaks Sam from his research trance. As he lifts his head the first thing he thinks is, Dean. He hadn't seen him since he'd sat down for research. Sam wasn't used to have any other responsibilities other than digging into the lore...Dean took care of everything else. He hadn't even thought of the little kitten since he'd sat down in front of his laptop.

"Dean?" He calls, sitting silent, listening for sounds.

He just about to rise and run off frantically to find him, when he hears a little meow coming from below. He looks between his legs and finds Dean between his feet, blinking sleepily up at him.

Sam huffs a deep, relieved breath and scoops Dean up and heads for the laundry room. He loads the dryer one handed, with Dean still pretty sleepy against his chest, rubbing his cheek against the material of Sam's t-shirt. After pushing start on the dryer, he stops by the kitchen for a coffee refill and to grab Dean's toy.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long day for him and the little kitten.

He sets Dean down on the floor and squats beside him, waving the toy in front of his little face and jingling the bell. Dean swats at it, and Sam drags the toy along the floor in front of Dean, the kitten eagerly, though a little clumsily, follows after it. Sam laughs at him and leaves him to play while he starts to pull out witches and spells from the men of letters books and references.

Another hour passes with Sam buried in research until the timer on the dryer echoes down the bunker's halls and rouses him. He looks up and finds Dean sprawled on his side over the shining wood floor, front paws crossed over the toy, as if keeping it captive. Those big, trusting green eyes watching his every move.

When Sam stand, Dean lets go of the toy and limps to Sam's feet, where he rubs against his ankles and purrs loudly. Sam stoops and picks Dean up and they make their way back to the laundry room. Sam drags the dry clothes back into the basket and lays Dean in the warm material in the basket for the trip back to Dean's room to fold and put away the clothes.

Sam picks Dean up out of the clothes and dumps the warm garments onto Dean's bed. He places Dean on the bed and begins to separate his and Dean's clothes and then folds. Dean walks wobbly on the mattress until he finds the warm clothes, liking the way the heat makes him feel safe and comfortable. Sam notices he immediately favorites the plaid shirt Dean had been wearing before he was changed and the navy blue coat.

The tiny kitten snuggles down into the depths of the two pieces of clothing and is quickly asleep, and purring quietly. Sam smiles and finishes the folding, except for the shirt and coat. Those he gathers up around Dean in his arms and walks back to the library. They pass the next couple of quiet hours like this, with Dean and his bundle of plaid and corduroy snuggled in Sam's lap.

Dean occasionally wakes, once he stood and peered over the rim of the table at what Sam was doing before nuzzling his way under Sam's hand which was laying on his thigh for a pet. But for the most part he curls up into a tight ball and sleeps within the safe depths of the familiar cloth, being guarded by his watchful brother.

By two o'clock Sam is starving and has found nothing but things he already knew. That the general transformative spell lasts twenty-four hours or perhaps an unlikely seventy-two hours, depending on the skill and power of the caster.

Sam thought that the witch looked like she knew what she was doing, and the spell she was weaving when Dean and Sam had been trying stops was a summoning for a demon. So Sam was pretty sure she knew what she was doing. The only thing that disturbed him was that he couldn't find anything on a permanent spell. Sam wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. Did it mean it had never been done before, or that there was no cure?

He picks Dean up from his nest and leaves the clothes, warm with Dean's body heat, on the library table as he goes to get them some lunch. He makes Dean some more warm milk which he laps up eagerly, and then begins to make himself a sandwich with some fixings he found in the fridge.

He's a little at a loss in the kitchen because this was Dean's realm, but he manages to make himself something decent. Once again Dean turned his nose up at the canned chicken, so Sam got a piece of ham, like what was on his sandwich, from the fridge and tore it into little pieces and fed it to Dean in his palm.

Dean rubs his rough tongue over Sam's hand once all the ham is gone, efficiently licking away the lingering taste. Sam pours him some water from his own glass into the milk cup and Dean drinks as Sam gulps down the rest of his water and washes his dishes and puts everything away. Sam rinses out Dean's cup when he through, and they go back to the library where Dean immediately run to the litter box as Sam sets him down.

Sam settles down for another stretch of researching, and Dean finds his toy on the way back from the litter box and pulls it towards Sam's chair, where his brother has great, big, old tomes stacked around. Dean amuses himself, going unnoticed by Sam, as he pulls his toy up on top of one of the big dusty books.

The book above the one Dean is sitting on has a page bent out and it's flapping around as Dean's tail brushes over and under it. The sound distracts Dean from his toy, and he pushes it up and down with his back leg until he sits up and takes into his mouth, trying to pull it out of the book. The little animal pulls with all his might, tiny claws embedding into the soft cover of the book for leverage.

There's a loud ripping and Sam looks down just in time to see Dean careening to the floor with a mouth full of paper leaving long claw marks in the ancient, ornately decorated 'Witchcraft and Dark Witches' book cover.

"Dean!" He exclaims, immediately scooping the little kitten up and cradling him to his chest. "Are you alright?" He asks, examining the already wounded paw for sign of torn stitches are further spraining.

Dean doesn't seem hurt, just pleased Sam is showing him attention again, and licks at Sam's fingers as he examines him thoroughly for injury.

Sam smiles ruefully at the old tome, "Well that book will never be the same," he says lightly, "We'll never look at it the same again either, I'll bet." He smiles as Dean looks down at the damaged artifact and back up to Sam like "oops."

Sam pulls the shirt and coat back into his lap and sets Dean down in them, who immediately purrs and snuggles down deeper into the material, pushing his back against Sam's stomach, eyes already mere slits.

Sam rubs him gently behind his ears until the purring has quieted into his sleeping rumble, and the kitten's body is warm and lax in his lap. Sam smiles down at the sleeping kitten and then delves deeper into his research.

Around 6:30 that evening Sam finds a treasury of information in a tall, thin book he found on one of the lowest and farthest shelves of books on witches. He thinks he's found what they need to break the spell or curse when he reads that any spell or curse cast by any manner of witch or warlock should decease with the caster.

Sam groans and rubs both hands over his face and through his hair. What a dead end. The witch WAS freaking dead! But Dean was still a cat so...what the hell then?

Dean looks up at him at the noise from where he's laying in his nest of plaid, his paws crossed over the toy which Sam had picked up off the floor and given to him

Sam pulls his phone out and speed dials the #1 most called number after Dean's.

"Hey Cas," he says, smiling at the gruff salutation on the other end, "I think we could use your help, man."

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW;)

thank you


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Cas promises to be at the bunker sometime early the next morning so Sam calls it a day on research and shuts his laptop down and pushes the books and files away from him. Dean purrs louder when he becomes the center of attention and smugly flexes and relaxes his front paws as Sam methodically pets him.

Sam can feel the knots of tension in his own shoulders and the back of his neck. Usually Dean would roughly rub all the knots out with his thumbs, like only he knew how, but Dean wasn't there. So Sam twisted his head around trying to crack his neck, used his own fingers to try and rub out some of the ache. Kitty Dean watches with glistening eyes and Sam sighs with what little relief he gets.

Sam decides he's done cooking and goes to Dean's room for the impala's keys that he left on the bedside table and struggles into his coat one handed. He bypasses putting the collar on Dean since they wouldn't even be getting out of the car. He takes shirt, coat, cat and all into the garage and unlocks the impala. He climbs in, putting Dean on the bench seat beside him like the day before. Dean seems content especially when he cranks the impala, and turns on some soft tunes. He pushes his small body up against Sam's thigh like before and purrs away as they back out of the bunker's garage and into the chilly night.

Sam drives into Lebanon and finds himself at the same diner he ate at last night. Sam orders the chicken sandwich and salad, but adds an order of chicken on it this time around. He receives his food at the window and drives away. Not driving back to the bunker in very much of a hurry, rolling down the window a bit, and getting some fresh air after his shut in day.

Dean seems better with the little outing too, his ears sticking up straighter and sparkling eyes following trees and street lights outside the car's window. Sam turns the music up bit and kitty Dean seems to appreciate the noise has much as real Dean does.

They finally pull up into the bunker's garage and Sam uncranks the car. Dean doesn't budge from his spot in the impala as Sam pulls out the keys and swings his legs out. He turns around and gathers Dean and his bundle of clothes up into his arms, Dean meows his disappointment at being abstracted from the car but quiets and begins to purr when Sam rubs his belly and chest with his fingers.

They follow the same routine as before, Dean lapping up his milk and then eating the chicken, this time from Sam's salad. Sam ate the salad greens and then the sandwich, both having some water to chase it down. Sam makes some more coffee and takes Dean into the library to take care of his is business in the litter box while he waits for it to brew.

He carries Dean back to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee, this time adding sugar and creamer, since this cup was for enjoyment not for energy. Then he journeys to his room where he climbs up onto the bed throwing the blankets over his legs. He creates a warm circle beside his hip with the coat and shirt and places Dean in. He grabs the IPad and is searching for something to watch to finish off the day relaxing.

Dean is too wrapped up clumsily climbing his way out of the bundle and into Sam's lap to notice. Sam huffs a laugh as he climbs up on his legs in between him and the iPad. Dean proceeds to follow Sam's example of swiping at the screen with his unbandaged paw. Sam drags a hand over Dean's head and down his back, watching the little kitten try and pin down the moving objects on the screen.

Dean, clever as ever, figures out there was nothing he could do about the flying colors on the screen and turns himself around gazing up at Sam.

"Meow," he lets out once, makes his way across Sam's lap towards him. Dean pauses his eye obviously caught by something. Sam watches enthralled as Dean walks right off his lap and falls back into his bundle of clothes. Sam expects Dean's getting settled in, after making sure the iPad wasn't an immediate threat, so he turns his attention back to the soothing rise and fall of colors and the gentle lull of voices and music...his mind slowly shutting down, the cogs and wheels coming to a halt.

Sam slides down the bed a little so his neck and head are against the pillows too, though he's not quite lying down. A movement by his side is getting persistent now and he looks down to find Dean with his plaid shirt in his little kitten mouth and pulling it with all his might towards Sam. Sam watches, laughing silently as Dean struggles to pull the plaid shirt up into his lap. Once Dean manages to push the shirt far enough up Sam's side he climbs into Sam's lap and bites down on it again, pulling with all his might. The plaid slips over Sam's stomach and Dean falls to the other side of his brother onto the mattress.

Sam watches as Dean shakes himself and then battles his way back up into Sam's lap. Sam enjoys another quiet laugh and then goes back to his movie. His aware of the little kitten moving around on his lap, but it's not until he realizes he can't see Dean anymore does he begin to look for him...

He watches a small lump under the plaid shirt, move closer to him on his lap, and has to give a shining smile when just Dean's little kitten face peeks out from under the plaid shirt up at Sam. His ears stick up under the plaid shirt obviously alert and aware with whatever game he's playing with himself.

Saw watches as Dean becomes aware he's being watched and has been caught at his own little game. His chin rests on the hem of Sam's jeans and his big, sparkling green eyes look up at him from just under the hem of the shirt. Sam smiles and slips his fingers under the plaid to give Dean a gentle rub and the pulls him up onto his chest pooling the plaid shirt around him, that Dean had worked so hard to get up into Sam's lap.

Dean immediately settles, the feeling of Sam's slow heartbeat and his warmth seeping through his t-shirt soothing the little animal to no end. The motor boat purr roars on for a little while as Sam's hand continues to rub over Dean's head and small body. Slowly it softens into its gentle rumble telling Sam Dean has dropped off to sleep. He looks down to find Dean sleeping with his head turned towards him, Sam's hand, stilled from his last pet, is lying beside Dean and the kitten has a few of his fingers captive between his front legs, paws cast over them protectively.

Sam smiles and doesn't disturb him, he simply breathes a little deeper, pulls the blankets closer and slips into a refreshing slumber.

...

Sam wakes to silence. Which is not in itself disturbing. But there's no gentle sigh as the breath leaves Dean's lungs, and there is no warm weight on his chest. His hand brushes over his chest just in case and finds Dean and the plaid shirt gone. He sits up on his elbows and looks around in the dark room, his well trained senses being able to see and identify that there is no Dean or plaid shirt in the room.

"Dean?" He calls softly. He reaches over and turns on his bed side lamp, and blinks in the light. Dean is no where, and neither does Sam hear any response to his call. He heaves up off his bed and makes for the library.

"Dean?" He calls again, thinking that maybe Dean had to use the litter box. The library is quiet and there is no sign of Dean anywhere. Now Sam is getting a little worried, thinking of all the dusty, box-filled rooms that a little kitten could get lost in. Or worse yet...activate some spell, release some age old nemesis like the wicked witch of the west. He picks up his pace and jogs to the laundry room, thinking how Dean had liked the vibrating machines early in the day.

He finds an empty, silent and cold wash room and is confused for a moment...where else would Dean have gone in the middle of the night AWAY from Sam.

Sam snaps his fingers as the light bulb goes off in his head and he races with anxious heart towards Dean's bedroom. He finds the door ajar and walks in, turning on the light and sighs in relief when he spots the orange furry ball on Dean's mattress, backed up against the pillow. Sam spots the plaid shirt discarded on the floor beside the bed, and chuckles when he realizes Dean couldn't get the shirt up on the bed and gave it up for the comfy mattress.

He sighs with relief again, and turns the light off crossing over the floor and climbs onto the mattress, leaning down and grabbing the plaid shirt off the floor. He flops down beside Dean on his stomach and pulls him into the curve of his arm and wraps the shirt around him. Smiling as Dean whines a little in his sleep and nuzzles his nose into Sam's bicep, and then settles calmly, tucking his chin over Sam's arm and leaving his head to rest there.

Sam breathes deep a few times waiting for the adrenaline rush to die away, and unconsciously brings a hand up to pet over Dean. His purring returns and soothes Sam back to sleep.

...

Sam wakes to the loud buzzing of his phone and scrambles to find it. He grabs it from the floor, thankful to see the screen hasn't cracked in its fall sometime during the night. He hastily swipes the answer option and holds the device to his ear.

"Hello?" He says sleepily, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Sam." Sam groans inwardly remembering Cas had said he'd be there sometime in the morning.

"Hey Cas," he says, rising into a sitting position, noticing for the first time Dean is not wrapped in his plaid bundle or on bed.

"I have arrived," Cas says, "Could you perhaps open the door?"

Sam looks around frantically for his brother, "Ug, yeah. Yeah Cas, I'm coming, hold up."

Sam hangs up and jumps up from the bed, searching quickly through the bedroom and adjoining bathroom.

"Dean?" He calls, going out into the hall, "Dean?" He makes his way towards the library, checking his bedroom for the small kitten and to grab a pair of jeans.

He sighs heavily and walks to the kitchen and into the library, checking the litter box corner...no such luck. He trudges up the steps and opens the big heavy door for Cas. The trench-coated Angel stands waiting in front of the door so close, Sam swears his nose must have been touching it.

"Hello Sam," he says, entering without further preamble, and starts down the steps. Sam shuts the door and follows their friend down.

Cas looks over him critically, "You slept later than usual." He observes.

Sam laughs, "Yeah, researched pretty hard yesterday."

"And you are still in need of my help?" Cas looks genuinely surprised, soothing Sam a little. Cas sighs heavily, "What trouble did you and your brother get into now?" He asks, affection showing in the laugh lines beside his eyes, and the way his lips turn up ever so slightly.

Sam almost laughs at the poor use of words.

"Where is Dean at anyways?" He asks, looking around, and then back to Sam, eyes thinning to suspicious slits. "Sam...?"

"We were hunting a witch and...things got out of hand, and well, she got Dean." He said hurriedly, hand sliding awkwardly into his back pockets.

"What do you mean exactly, got Dean?" Cas asks, getting a little closer to Sam.

God, Cas was protective of his brother.

"She, she hit him with some spell, I don't know...anyway he's uhm..." There was no easy way to say this... "He's a cat."

"A cat?" Cas asks back.

"A kitten really, dude is tinny tiny...actually," Sam says, cracking his first grin. "I'm sorry," he stutters out with a chuckle, "It's not funny. It's just that, he's really cute."

Sam watches as Cas' lips turn up some more, until he has one big smile on his face. "Okay," Cas says like, we can deal with this. "Where is he?" He asks, looking around.

"Ah," Sam says dismally, "That is the current demise, I'm not exactly sure of his current location."

Sam looks down slightly ashamed, waiting for Cas to say something.

Cas just stares at him for a moment, "Okay," he lets out a long suffering breath, really the Winchesters would be the death of him. "Where have you searched?"

"Uh," Sam recovers himself, "Our bedrooms, the kitchen, the library...I can't think where else he'd be..."

"Have you checked the impala?" Cas questions innocently, "I have often observed the frankly, alarming, infatuation your brother suffers for that automobile."

"You and me both, Cas," Sam affirms, but lit out for the garage with the angel close on his heels.

Sam skids to a halt on the garage's cement floor. Sure enough there he was. Sam was sure there was nothing cuter than kitty Dean curled up asleep in the middle of his Baby's sleek, black hood.

Cas stands behind him and motions towards the scene, "There he is, you see...alarming. Even as a feline he is drawn to the apparatus."

"Yes, thanks Cas." Sam says, walking softly to the car, gently taking Dean in one of his big hands and bringing him in to cuddle against his chest. Dean's sleepy purr is interrupted, but it soon returns motor boat volume as Sam rubs him under the chin and over his back. He opens his eyes lazily and lets out a yawn that was monstrous for his little mouth.

Cas is immediately entranced by the small kitten, Sam watches as the fascinated light comes to his eyes and he reaches out to Dean. He astutely holds his finger tips up to Dean's nose to make sure he close proximity is approved of. Dean has no objections to Cas' presence, he nuzzles into his finger tips as if fishing for more petting. Which Cas gladly gives.

Sam hesitates a little but then hands his brother over to Cas. Watches smiling as the angel holds Dean close and keeps a steady hand petting over his head, fingers pulling down and over his back. Dean loves the extra attention, purring loudly and looking up at Sam through pleasure squinted eyes as his very whiskers vibrate.

"So what next?" Cas asks, hand coasting over Dean's head and behind his ears.

Sam leads the way back to the bunker, heading for the kitchen. "So what I've found in the lore so far, is that these sort of transformative spells should be temporary, and in any case the spell or hex should cease after the caster's death..." Sam takes a breath as he enters the kitchen. He begins to prepare Dean's breakfast, grinning at the way Dean follows his movements avidly, already having learned the kitchen usually meant food.

"Only problem is," Sam says from the sink, "We killed the witch already."

Cas looks up at that.

"That is interesting." He says, becoming quite uncomfortable as Dean starts to squirm and wriggle watching Sam prepare his milk. Sam stirs the warm mixture and then places it on table, takes Dean from Cas and places him down on the table top.

Dean limps, less noticeably, over to his cup and begins to contentedly lap up his milk. As Sam prepares his own breakfast he laughs at Cas snapping pictures of kitten Dean.

"She must still be alive." Cas states easily as Sam sits with coffee and cereal at the table. Dean regarding him for a moment with sparkling eyes before going back to his milk. Cas watches as Sam smiles and rubs a hand down Dean's head and back all the way to his tail.

"You know Sam," he says, sitting too, across from the youngest Winchester. "It's not sanitary to have a cat on the table."

Sam barely glances up from his bowl of cereal, "I'm not feeding Dean on the floor Cas, I'm just not so..." He watches as Dean finishes and wanders over to him sniffing over the rims of his dishes, seeing what Sam was eating.

Sam dips his pinky finger into his coffee and sticks it under Dean's nose, Dean sniffs and licks the drop of dark liquid from Sam's finger. Sam smiles a little and does it again. After a while of procrastinating Sam gets up and gives Dean a saucer with some dry kitty food in it. Dean leaves Sam's finger and the coffee for it, but Sam notices laughing a little he seems more alert, eyes a little wider.

Whoops, hopefully the caffeinated kitty idea wouldn't come to kick him in the ass later on.

"She must still be alive," Cas repeats, after watching the brother's get lost in themselves.

Sam looks up, "But Cas, I ignited the spell myself and threw it at her, the whole house went up in flames."

Cas shakes his head, "Dean is still a cat, there's no other way around it."

"The spell she was performing was raising a demon," Sam says through his last bite of cereal. "Maybe it somehow brought her back, or maybe she was a demon witch, we only followed the witch protocol, didn't even test her." Sam frowns over the his coffee, the steam billowing up into his nose, smelling like heaven. "Which means if she is still alive we need to get back there quick..."

"She was really powerful, it would almost make sense," Cas nods. "There's been other cases like this, over the years...I mean," he explains, when Sam gives him a sharp look. "It was when Abraham Lincoln..."

Sam holds up his hand, standing, "Tell me on the way Cas, I gotta get packed, watch Dean for me, yeah?" Sam is gone in a blink of an eye, leaving Cas and Dean blinking into each other's equally curious and clueless eyes.

Sam had an experienced packing life, and he makes record timing today, and he packs a duffle for Dean too. With the prospects of turning his brother back soon in sight, Sam is anxious to get on the road. Having his companion back sounds good, since Sam's a talker, and generally he likes having someone to listen to him. Plus, Dean was quite the talker too, he made Sam laugh, looked after him, made him feel loved...really made their home. Sam missed him.

Sam comes into the library with two duffles thrown over his shoulders, and Dean's plaid and navy blue corduroy coat draped over his arm. He feels like a mom going out with her new born baby for the first time. He finds Cas seated cross legged on the floor with Dean's toy in his hand, and Dean hanging onto it for dear life as Cas drags it around the floor. He shakes his head and quickly makes his way to the garage throwing their duffles into the trunk and Dean's clothes into the front seat.

Then he goes into their supply room and quickly makes up three witch TNTs. Smiling as he bestows Dean's descriptive name to them. He packs those into their weapons bags along with their colts and blessed iron and silver stakes just in case. He also grabs two gallons of holy water and Ruby's knife. Sighing deeply, and finally ready Sam comes back to the library with the weapons bag swinging over his shoulder.

No Cas.

And more importantly, no Dean.

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you

Hi guys! Thank you so much for the reviews ! Here's to answer some of ur questions and crazily participant observations and predictions.

Yes, Dean is allergic to cats. (8.15 Man's Best Friend With Benefits.) I'm not sure if this reflects badly on me as a writer or makes Dean's predicament all the more hilarious. ...?

As for a guest review from "Ray." You're a very astute reader, girl. I guess Dean was commando, unless he was sent to a wildly different universe while being a cat in our world and was allowed to keep his underwear. But idk. :)

You guys might have noticed I don't write a lot of Cas and usually keep to the Winchester boys. So I'm anxious to see how my interpretation of Cas turns out! And how he deals with kitty!Dean.

As to my faithful reader, follower and reviewer "Dearhart", I salute u. I love pet smarts and pets and as you've been working there for ten years I'm guessing u love it too! Thank u girl for ur support it means a lot, and good luck at work! :)

See y'all next time! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

"Guys?" He calls, "I'm ready! Let's go!" Sam is answered with silence.

He heaves a sigh, and walks into the map room looking around for his missing cat and cat sitter.

"Cas, where are you?" He calls, "I'm ready to go!"

Cas appears breathless from one of the hallways and breathes heavily. "Sam..." He pants, "I lost him."

"What?" Sam asks, because seriously, Sam's been with kitty Dean non stop for 48 hours and never lost sight of him except for when he was asleep and those few breathtaking moments when Dean had taken himself off somewhere else to sleep.

Cas pants through a few quick breaths, "We were playing hide and seek, and I was hiding and he was seeking, and then it was his turn..."

Sam face plants in his hand, "Cas, your not serious are you?" He asks, really doubting someone could be this dumb. Even Cas.

Cas nods and shrugs, "It seemed like a good idea."

Sam didn't even want to think where Dean might have hidden. As a six-foot tall man Dean was an expert concealer, Sam couldn't even find him most of the time if the hunt called for a stake out. Dean as an eight inch kitten? Oh my god. Sam's head hurt. He closes his eyes waiting for his self control to kick in. Finally he sighs, and shrugs looking around.

"Dean?" He calls, eyes searching for orange fur anywhere.

"Meow." Sam hears and jerks his head to find the maker of the sound. From where Sam stands in the library, he sees Dean peering down on them from the top of the staircase.

Sam's heart freezes as he watches Dean clumsily paw between the iron bars towards Sam, and towards the drop to the map room floor that would surely prove fatal to the little kitten's body. Sam know he will never make it there in time, even as he throws himself forward.

"Cas!" He screams, as Dean's hold slips and he plummets toward the cold, hard floor. Cas' angel warrior instincts has him reacting with tiger swiftness. He slides to a halt under Dean in perfect timing catching the kitten's small body and bringing it safe and close against his chest.

Sam is there a millisecond later and Cas gives up his hold on the older Winchester so that his little brother can wrap his shaking hands around him and cuddle him safely to his warm chest. Dean's little body is shaking with fear from the fall, and by instinct is turning to Sam for comfort, whining in his throat and turning to bury his whiskered face in the v of Sam's elbow and bicep.

Sam forces himself to breathe calmly, and to comfort the trembling bundle in his arms. He softly, but reassuringly gives Dean the petting he so loves. Rubs his head and behind his ears and then down his back all the way down to his tail. He shuts his eyes, and listens on the short, frightened breaths of the little kitten in his arms...it helps him focus on what he needs to do...Sam needs this remedied and he needs it remedied now. He will have a heart attack, or get an ulcer with much more of this.

He sighs deeply and pets Dean again, "It's alright buddy," he whispers, "We gotcha, I gotcha." He pets him down again and then around his neck and down to his chest, until the purr comes back and Sam feels like they hadn't traumatized his big brother. Dean would be so pissed if he came back needing a shrink.

Sam shakes his head to free it from the picture of an enraged, deranged Dean and leads the way to garage with Cas in tow. Dean has calmed considerably and seems content now that Sam is back and holding him safe.

Sam puts the weapons bag into the impala's trunk and then slips into the driver's seat and shuts the door behind him. Cas joins them as Sam puts Dean in his cradle of flannel and navy blue corduroy and pulls him flush against his thigh.

Cas shuts his door and smiles at the state of things between the brothers. He should have known if it ever came down to this, Dean nor Sam would be parted from their brother, even by a few inches. It's a little different riding with the Winchester boys this is way in the impala. Cas has never ridden in the front seat with both brothers present.

If Dean was there, he was driving, and if Sam was there, Dean wouldn't drive without Sam in the passengers seat, Cas was generally stuck in the back. So Cas got his own car. Whether is was bought or stole wasn't commonly known, the lines were a bit blurred.

Sam cranks the impala up and Dean's purr escalates with her engine as Sam pulls out of the garage and out onto the open highway. Sam pushes in a tape and Dean's big eyes are soon drooping heavily, sleep flirting with him. He's out for the count though when Sam lets his hand fall down and rubs his thumb along the top of his head.

Sam sighs and turns down the music as soon as Dean is sleeping deeply, and runs a hand down his face in frustration.

"Okay, so tell me what you know about these demon witches." He says to Cas.

"Well," Cas says, "There's been many over time...as I was saying the last one active to my knowledge was a negro slave woman during your president Abraham Lincoln's reign."

"Reign?" Sam asks, laughing.

Cas rolls his eyes, "You know what I mean, any way these are witches who sell their souls for power during their human life span, once in hell, their souls are warped and twisted into demons. Then they rise to the earth to their masters bidding."

"Their masters?" Sam asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust.

"The demons they worshipped while a human witch and from whom they gained their power." Cas answers, as if it is a run of the mill question, Sam is disgusted...he hates demons.

"Anyway," Cas says, "These are the most powerful witches, and often their main purpose of being "top side" is to bring their master's up from perdition." Sam smirks as Cas' finger quotations make an appearance.

"Why are there so many years between them," Sam asks, "I mean, why haven't we seen this before if their so powerful why aren't their many of them?"

"The process of becoming such a powerful witch, dying, going to hell, becoming a demon, finding their masters, and finally escaping from hell is a long, agonizing, torturous process. It takes many years to complete, it's likely this witch is hundreds of years old, and now finally she's ready to rise." Cas manages to look disturbingly grim yet unworried over on his side of the impala, staring out the window, with the sun sparkling off his blue eyes. Sam sighs and decides to say nothing.

His gaze sweeps over the country side, and then down to look at his sleeping brother, before quickly going back to the road.

"Why cats?" He asks out loud. "I mean of all the things, why cats? Witches always seem to have this thing with cats, they either love 'em, or need their bones, and now for god's sake, apparently they're turning people into them too." He shakes his head bewilderedly and lifts his hands off the wheel in a helpless shrug.

Cas turns his piercing gaze to Sam and his lips turn up into his quirky smile.

"Cats are the best, Sam," he says in a disbelieving voice, "They're smart, and they take care of themselves, unlike dogs. Canines are larger and I have after noticed more odorous."

Sam raises his eyebrows at the Angel, and cuts his eyes at him. "Didn't realize you were an authority on cats Cas."

"I have had many opportunities for observing the feline species, and it's often been my opinion that they should have been man's best friend and not dogs." Cas settles back in his seat, burrowing his hands into the pocket of his trench coat, and seems genuinely bothered by this lack of insight on his Father's part.

"Dogs are typically more loyal Cas," Sam says, "That's why they're called man's best friend."

"But cats are smaller, and smarter and...really I see why witches choose cats." Cas says decidedly.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asks, more just to gratify him than anything.

"Well, if I was going to add to any species on earth it would diffidently be felines."

Sam shoots Cas a hard look, "We're talking about Dean here, Cas."

Cas holds up his hands defensively, "You asked, I was just answering your question, Sam, but REALLY cats are..."

Sam kind of tunes Cas out at this point. He's thinking about the best way to locate the witch, and how to defeat her. He assumes Ruby's knife will work on this demon witch just as good as any, but he's glad he has the witch TNT just in case.

What if Dean doesn't turn back when she dies? What if his information is wrong, and he's about to kill their only chance at getting Dean changed back? Sam shudders at the thought of being without his brother for the rest of his life.

Kitty Dean is adorable, he's just not Dean. Not strong, dependable, reassuring Dean. And Sam needs that, needs all those things, needs Dean. He's not Sam Winchester without Dean Winchester. It's a cold, hard truth he's had to reconcile himself too, that he is nothing without his brother.

And he knows that should bother him, hell, it used to. But now all he wants his brother back. He likes who they are, he likes depending on him, like he knows Dean depends on him. They are an unbeatable force. Even with Dean depleted to a little kitten he is filled with such a powerful desire to protect him and set things to right that it scares Sam when he thinks about what he might do.

He finds his hand unconsciously ghosting over Dean in a gentle pet, he will but this to right, Dean will be back to normal again. Or Sam swears to God this demon bitch will rue the day she ever discovered the world of witchcraft and black magic.

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this chapters really short, sorry! But the good stuffs coming;)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Sam drives directly to the secluded piece of land where he'd set fire to the witch's house. He parks like Dean had before, a little ways down the dirt road from the house. He looks down to find Dean blinking sleepily up at him, waking up with the stilling of the car.

He looks over to Cas.

"...and Sam, did you know? In ancient Egypt, cats were considered a sacred animal, they were treated with equal respect as humans and often..."

"...often embalmed and buried in royal sarcophagi along with their owners? Yeah, I do know. We're here, can we go now?" Sam asks, scooping Dean up in his hand and holding him close to his chest.

Cas blinks and looks around as if to confirm their location, and Sam feels a little better after the HOURS of cats facts he's endured as the Angel looks at him a little more respectfully. Cas nods, and follows Sam's example of climbing out of the car, joins him on the dirt road walking towards the bushy hedge that obscures the house from view.

Sam feels a touch smug as he sees the witch's house has been reduced to a pile of ashes and soot. But it only results in making him angry again when he thinks how it benefited him, and especially Dean; NONE.

He and Cas stand over the dusty pile of ash, with the youngest Winchester holding the kitten protectively to his chest, keeping a wary eye out. Cas nods thoughtfully over the dark spot on the earth.

"Nothing died here," he says flatly, "And definitely not a demon witch."

Sam grounds his teeth causing Dean to look up at him, Sam rubs his thumb over the top of his little head soothingly as starts to check out the wooded area around the clearing where the house stood. He immediately remembers the shed he and Dean had checked out before but found nothing in, he wonders if maybe the witch has moved her operation into that building.

He motions directions to Cas as they creep around the wood structure. Cas circles the shack with an expression on his face much like a hound sniffing stuck on an elusive trail. He makes his way back to Sam silently and momentarily Sam sees past his brother's sloppy, awkward best friend and sees the trained, merciless angel warrior.

"There's strong magic here, Sam," he whispers, "I think this is probably her location."

Sam feels a surge of hot energy surge through him when Cas says the witch is here. That the bitch is within reach, that Sam can get his avenging hands on her scrawny little neck and...

Cas plants a sturdy hand on Sam's chest to hold him back from barging into the shack. "Sam," he whispers urgently, "Are you sure this is the way you want to do this?"

Sam gives Cas the epic MOVE I WANT TO KILL SOMETHING bitch face.

"We need a plan Sam, and we need to get Dean away from here and stashed somewhere safe before we fly "feather-brained" into this." Sam nearly dies of exasperation when Cas' finger quotations make another appearance.

But Cas is right and Dean is peering up into Sam's face, picking up on all the nervous energy pouring from his brother. His purring is dissipating and the claws of his unbandaged paw is embedded in Sam's flannel, his whiskers are twitching with green eyes wide and gazing up at Sam.

Sam breathes and exhales deeply, causing Dean's whiskers to flutter around and eyes to fly shut against the slight wind. Sam smooths his hand over Dean's head and down his back and then holds him closer.

"Alright," he breathes. "Let's go." He walks off quickly towards the road with Cas on his heels.

He breathes easier once he shuts the impala's door behind him and Dean. His hotheadedness could have gotten Dean killed if Cas hadn't been there to screw his head back on straight. Cas joins him, as he gives Dean a calming pet and then lays him down in his plaid and navy blue nest.

"Okay," Sam says, running a hand down his face, and then cranking the car, "We'll go get a room, and work out a plan, and figure out what to do with you, my man." He says fondly giving Dean a last pet before he begins to drive away.

They drive into town and Sam pulls into the loneliest looking motel. He seriously doubts any motel would be especially thrilled about a kitten in one of their rooms, so he decides to get a room on the end and sneak Dean in under his coat. He leaves Dean in the car with Cas and runs into the office to get them a room.

After letting the 'no pets' sign make him sweat, Sam gets a room, requesting one on the end and trying to smile innocently when the severe looking granny gives him a vicious stare. He runs back out to the car and parks it in front of their faded door with the crooked number 27 hanging on it.

He wraps Dean in his plaid and corduroy and then stuffs it under his jacket, then he quickly walks to the door, turning his back towards the office to obscure any suspicious activity and unlocks their room and goes in quickly. It's dark inside, but Sam can already smell the musty, stained carpet and the mildewy walls.

He gropes along the wall for the light switch, and flicks it on as he closes the curtains. He lays Dean and his bundle down on the bed and then runs back out to grab their stuff and and lock up the car. Cas wanders in and sits on the bed beside Dean, and watches as Dean struggles out of the pile of shirt and coat and into his lap.

Sam places their bags on the floor at the foot of the first bed and then grabs the plastic bag from the vets and pulls out a clean bandage. He sits beside Cas and takes Dean, sitting him on his own lap. Dean sits perfectly still for him as he unwraps the wounded paw.

The wound looks good, like it's healing clean and Dean isn't favoring it nearly as much as he had the first day. Dean purrs and watches him with blinking eyes as Sam gently rewraps it. Sam rubs him gently with a thumb under his chin as he and Cas discuss where to go from here.

"Her power will be depleted if we catch her in the midst of a seance," Cas says, petting over Dean's back himself.

"So we need to figure out when she works?" Sam asks.

Cas nods, "I advice we go back to her place of work and obtain from there when she'll perform her art next."

"Okay, a little spying." Sam says, looking down at Dean. "Dean's favorite part."

"Well, let's get him back to working order then," Cas says, with a fond smile. Sam can't help but smile too.

"Okay well, let me get Dean settled and then we can go."

"Sam, are you sure it's a good idea leaving him alone?" Cas asks, watching Sam unpack Dean's supplies.

Sam looks up at him, exasperated. "Cas, you're the one who said we should make sure he was safe."

Cas shrugs, "I didn't say anything about leaving him alone."

"Well, I don't see anyone who can cat sit," Sam comments, spreading his hands wide, at a loss. "I certainly don't see you volunteering, not that I'd let you anyway."

Cas gives Sam a very good version of the Winchester bitch face.

"It'll just have to do," Sam says, sighing. "I don't like it one but either, but I dislike the idea of leaving Dean with some complete stranger in a kennel even worse. He's be every well behaved, I'm sure he'll just sleep the whole time."

Cas says, raising his hands in surrender, "Okay, I'm sure you know best."

Sam gives him a hard look.

He quickly prepares Dean some milk pouring it into a paper plate he finds with some other kitchen supplies in the room. He sits Dean on top of the table with the plate in front of him. As Dean drinks he serves out some of the dry cat food on another plate, promising Dean he will get him some chicken later on. Sam rubs him down while Dean laps up his milk, his heart clenching worriedly at the thought of leaving Dean, so small and vulnerable, alone.

Cas watches knowingly. He also, likes the idea of leaving Dean alone very little. But he knows, as well as Sam, that the threat to Dean is by far less here, at the motel, than out there with them AND the witch. He checks just to make sure his Angel blade is still in place and then begins to methodically salt the windows and doors as Sam sits thinking beside his brother.

Sam knows he must go, but he can't help but feel like he's failing Dean in some way, that he can't stay with him the whole time. But he knows that Dean would want the witch dead and defeated whether he was a cat or a canary, so he sucks up his sentiment and throws away Dean's plates, before carrying him under his coat outside to take care of business.

Sam leans against the wall while Dean scratches and noses around, before finally getting serious. Once Dean is finished Sam picks him up and covers him again before going back around he front of their room and into it. He takes the witch TNT from the weapons bags, Ruby's knife. He unzips his own duffel and retrieves his colt. He sighs, standing looking at Dean.

Cas is waiting so he shapes Dean's shirt and coat like the kitty preferred it and sat him down in the middle. He rubs Dean over the head, and looks into his wide green eyes blinking up at him. Sam would have broke if Cas hadn't been there. He gives Dean one last pet, "I'll be back in a bit, Dean," he promises. "You be good," He points directly at him just as he shuts the door and the lock clicks in place behind him.

The wailing meow that follows his departure shatters Sam's heart into a thousand pieces.

Behind the impala's wheel Sam is a man of purpose. Now he's on the job he's intent on finishing in order to get back to Dean faster. Cas rides beside him in silent support. They park exactly like they had early and walk towards the little shack, over the ashes where the witch's house once stood, with grim faces set with purpose.

The air is still and quiet around them. The late afternoon sun is draping everything in a warm, orange glow. Sam feels as if every one of his footsteps crackling in the dead leaves will shatter the air and raise the alarm that they are approaching. His and Cas' breath cloud in the air before them as they motion to each other from each side of the double doors.

In a unified act they swing the doors open. Sam heaves a huge breath in when the sun light seaming into the little building shows its uninhabited. However it does expose some pretty impressive symbols decorated all over the walls. Red paint is a nice thought, but Sam seriously doubts it's paint if the smell is any testimony. The altar directly opposite them on the back wall is probably the biggest and most elaborate Sam has ever seen.

Left and right walls are both lined with crude wooden shelves lined with baskets and boxes that Sam didn't really want to know the contents of. He pulls the collar of his shirt up and over his nose, the room is so rank. He walks directly to the alter with Cas close behind him. Two great, big candle holders stand on either side of large brazen bowl, that disturbingly resembles the one the witch had dumped the contents of on Dean.

A ritual was obviously in order. The bowl was nearly full with leaves, powders, and bits and pieces Sam assumed was bones. On some sort of thick, chalky-colored parchment was etched some crude writing of the language Sam had recognized the witch speaking before she had changed Dean. From the looks of what Sam could translate off the top of his head Cas was right. This mother was about to raise a demon straight from the fiery pit.

"It appears she's just about prepared to make a second attempt," Cas says in a subdued tone.

"Hmm," Sam responds in affirmation. As expected when he puts his pinky finger into one of the candles the wax is soft and warm. "She was here not too long ago," he says looking around suspiciously, "Why did she leave?" He asks out loud, looking for am explanation among the contents of the alter, "Why didn't she finish?"

"Perhaps she hadn't all her ingredients," Cas supplies, nosing through some dusty boxes.

"Maybe," Sam muses, "She was ready though, that's for sure." He says, fingering some wet blood from the floor. "What was she missing?"

Cas shrugs, "She WAS ready, which means she wasn't expecting the set back, which means, she left to get her last item...she'll be back tonight to complete the ritual, I'm sure."

Sam nods, agreeing. "Let's go get supper and check up on Dean, we can come back later."

Cas agrees too, and they shut and secure the door behind them, covering their tracks well. Sam has been taught by the best.

As promised Sam gets some chicken for Dean as a side on his salad, while Cas orders Dean's usual cheeseburger for himself. Sam drives just a touch away from reckless on the way back to the room. Cas breathes better once their parked and out of the impala. Human Dean scares him in the driver's seat, but Cas trusts he won't hurt his Baby. It's another story with Sam however; Cas is glad to get out of the car.

Sam is at the room door in a heart beat and inserting the key. Cas is on his heels, wanting to see how Dean fared on his own for himself.

Sam opens the door to find the room exactly how he left it. The sun has finished its descent behind the horizon, so it's dark. Sam wishes he'd thought to tune on a light for Dean. He switches the light on to find Dean's nest of clothes empty.

"Dean?" He calls, "Where you at? We're back!" He searches through the room and the bathroom, growing a little frantic.

"Dean! C'mere!" He yells. He's on his knees looking under the bed, regardless of the nasty carpet under his cheek. He checks through their bags he left opened and all through their room's kitchenette's cabinets.

Sam's mind is freezing and stuttering the whole time he searches. There's no way Dean got out of the room, there's no way someone broke in and kidnapped him without leaving so much as a sign Sam can read...he's a hunter for god's sake! So where is his brother? Where is his brother who is currently about the size of his hand, and who he left unprotected and alone?

He stands, looking to Cas with his heart turning to ashes, face white and hands shaking, "Cas where is he? Where's Dean?"

tbc...

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Cas watches as a look of complete devastation washes over his friend's face, and then wrinkles appear on his forehead, his lips are pressed into a hard line, his shoulder tense and straighten. For the first time in their acquaintance Cas finds reason to fear Sam Winchester.

He sees what demons and vampires and monsters see. A trained soldier, a warrior with an avenging light in his eyes, the yellow-green glow they take on when his brother is threatened. He sees Sam Winchester, hunter, boy-King, Lucifer's Vessel, John Winchester's son.

Cas finds it so amazing that Sam seems so laid back and normal even, but when his brother is threatened these things come to light. It scares him. Scares him for both brothers. He knows what ends these two men will go to for each other. And that the bond grows stronger every day, the hole they know they're digging grows deeper. The Winchester's have never ceased to amaze him, but Cas wonders how can this end in any good way?

He watches with wide eyes as Sam walks over to the bed he left Dean on and places the weapons bag on it, unzipping it and stuffing all his supplies back in. His face clearly entailing he is getting ready for war.

"Sam, what are you doing?" He asks, trying to break Sam's frankly frightening concentration, by moving within his line of sight and placing a hand on his arm.

Sam jerks his arm away, "We have to go Cas," he says hurriedly, his face falling even grimmer, "She's probably already made it back, she'll be starting soon."

"Sam what are you talking about?" Cas asks, following him out to the car, "Who cares about the witch, I though you were worried about Dean."

Sam grabs him desperately with both hands on his upper arms. "She's got him Cas," he says, he then releases Cas and walks quickly to the driver's side of the impala.

"What do you mean 'she's' got him?" Cas asks, watching him, as he moves quickly.

"The witch," Sam says, over the impala's hood, "GET IN." He tells Cas, ducking into the driver's seat.

"Sam," Cas reasons, shutting the passenger door behind him. "That's not even possible, she has no knowledge of his whereabouts."

Sam shakes his head desperately, "She was probably there in THAT building when we there with him earlier, Cas. Besides a witch as powerful as she is...she can most likely track her magic."

Cas grips the impala's seat tightly as Sam screeches past a car and narrowly escapes flipping Dean's baby. "Sam, that still doesn't make sense," he argues through gritted teeth, "She has no use for him."

"We discover the witch is short one last ingredient, the very same witch that turned Dean into cat, and then we return to find Dean gone..." He trails off, his point hopelessly making itself.

Cas shakes his head, "Sam, it makes no sense." He points out again, "It's just coincidence."

"Coincidences don't just happen coincidentally, Cas." Sam says helpfully, "I can't explain it," he says, voice boding doom, "I've worked enough jobs and lived through enough Winchester bum luck to know that the bitch has Dean, she needs him for something...and God, this is all my fault, I CAN'T BELIEVE I left him alone!"

Sam grounds his teeth at himself and his foot falls heavier on the impala's gas pedal. Cas flexes his jaw and says nothing, he hopes beyond all hope Sam is wrong...but the Winchester brothers are rarely wrong when it comes to each other.

Some would have said Sam was going off half cocked, but Cas recognized in the younger Winchester the purpose, strength and confidence of a practiced warrior. Sam's brother had been taken from him and there was nothing more to do but to end this. To go in guns blaring, bold and sure. Besides, it was two hunters against one witch, demon witch, but still how many demons had Cas and Sam taken on at one time...each?

This was simply a milk run except for the fact that Dean had been taken. That made a huge difference. That made all the difference in the world. In Sam's eyes now that witch deserved death, deserved the slowest, most painful death imaginable, deserved to have her insides slowly pulled from her, one vein at a time, muscles laid out and wrapped around her to hold her down as he tore her limb for limb...

But then Sam is getting a head of himself.

Sam stills his breathing to barely perceptible as he kneels in the dirt outside the doors of the little building. Light is leaking from the bottom and as Sam calms his senses sure enough he can hear movements on the other side of doors as well as low mumblings. He closes his eyes and employs all the methods he knows of concentration and meditation, Sam sighs with relief as he barely picks up a soft whimpering, just a barely there wringing mewling sound. Dean.

Sam has to hold himself back, he breathes deep and tightens his grip on Ruby's blade in one hand, and his colt with iron rounds marked with devil's traps marked in them. Cas across from him readies himself, gripping his Angel blade tight, their eyes meet. Sam nods and they fling the doors open.

Sam's vision zones in on the witch where she stands before her alter, as she turns towards the door in surprise he plants an iron round in the middle of her forehead. She is stunned for a moment, blood runs from her vessel's body from the neat little hole. Sam spots Dean with a rope tied around his neck and secured to the leg of the table serving as the witch's alter.

Dean lets out a loud meow when he and Sam's eyes meet. The witch recovers and reaches for Dean.

"No!" Sam shouts, shooting another iron bullet straight through her palm. She screams, but grabs Dean up in her obliterated hand anyway. Sam lets fly two bullets square in her heart, jerking her to the left with a crimson cloud floating in the air.

The sound of blood filling her vessel's throat as the demon witch screams is terrible, even Sam in his anger, winces. She grabs up an old, ancient looking knife in her hand and holds it over Dean's small body and Sam's heart freezes. Her cold eyes, now showing him an ugly black, meet Sam's and he watches her bloody lips turn up.

Dean is fighting admirably to get away from her and back to Sam. Leaving ugly, raised scratches all down her arm, and gnawing at her scrawny fingers that are holding him like a vice.

Just as her knife descends on Dean Cas reaches her, his Angel blade stabbing clean through her heart. Sam grabs her right shoulder and pulls her up onto Ruby's knife. He twists around and up looking for the telltale crack that's he's broken her breastbone, the knife driving into her heat and if he's lucky her spline too.

"Die bitch," he hisses into her face, feeling a lot like Dean, even as her skeleton lights up and flickers until the demon is no more.

Dean falls limply from her lifeless hand, too fast for Sam to catch him. Sam's heart twists painfully as his little body hits the floor with a dull thump. His white and orange fur is coated with blood and Sam is unsure how much of it is his and how much is the witch's. Sam's hands hover over the tiny body, unsure.

"Cas?" Sam asks, looking up to the Angel standing by his shoulder as he kneels by the kitten's fallen body.

And Sammy Winchester is back, just like that. Big, lost, pleading puppy dog eyes, with tears swimming in them at the sight of his brother bloody and deathly still.

Cas kneels beside him, passing a gently hand over the small form, eyes shutting as light emits as grace departs from Cas and into the kitten.

"He's alive," Cas says, opening his eyes again.

Dean doesn't look any better, the blood still coats his fur, but then Cas, like all of them, has seen better days.

"Thank you," Sam breathes, gathering Dean in his hands and holding him close to his chest as Cas slices the rope away with his Angel blade. Sam stands and carries his brother away from the dark shack even as Cas takes Sam's three jars of witch TNT and and sets them to flame. Tossing them into the depths of the shabby building while he jogs to join Sam.

The dry wood goes up quickly in flames and grey smoke, Sam and Cas can smell the herbs and magic burning even as they turn their backs on the scene and make their way to the impala.

Sam is whispering to his brother, thumb rubbing over the top his head, in between his ears. "You with me Dean?" He asks, "C'mon back to me," he pleads.

He nearly, both laughs, and cries with joy when Dean's little, pink nose twitches, and then his ears. Sam hurries back to the car where he sits sideways in the impala with his legs hanging out. He turns on the flash light on his phone and shines it at Dean.

He smiles and chuckles a little when Dean's green eyes blink up at him, and his bandaged paw swipes over them as if to hide his eyes from the bright, fluorescent light.

"Hey," he says softly, "Let's have a look at you." He smooths a hand over Dean's blood matted coat, feeling for any cuts or irregular feeling bones. He sighs with relief, passing a hand over his burning eyes when he finds none.

"Dean, you scared the crap out of me," he tells him. Pulling his legs into the car and shutting the door. Cas is already sitting beside him waiting.

"He okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, I think so." Sam says, still petting him, feeling the tremors running through the little frame. He wants to pet and hold Dean until he begins to purr again, but he wants to get out of there even more.

He lays Dean in his lap, leaving one hand there to pass over him in a constant, reassuring pet, as he cranks the car and steers them out of there and down the road with the other.

...

Dean stays glued to Sam the rest of the night, growing jumpy and edgy when his brother is more than three feet away. Not that Sam minded, he was equally glued to the little kitten. Dean licks up his milk, beside Sam's plate of old, soggy salad that Sam's not eating because he's lost his appetite. He offers the chicken to Dean as promised, but he ignores it in favor of pushing under Sam's hand which lays on the table beside him.

Cas watches in awe as even in their altered state, the brother's are perfectly there for each other. He feels a little like an outsider as the night progresses and the silence stretches on, everything needing to be said passing between the two brothers in pets and purrs.

When Sam goes to have his shower after wiping the blood from Dean's fur, the little kitten buries himself in the nest of his flannel and corduroy clothes. He doesn't show himself until Sam walks back into the room, clothed in sweats and a t-shirt with sopping wet hair. Dean watches with wide curious eyes as Sam towel dries it with quick movements.

Sam lays down on his side and pulls the shirt and coat into the curve of his body. Dean fights his way out of the midst of the material and snuggles himself between Sam's chest and his bicep, pillowing his head on Sam's arm like the night before.

Sam pets over him until the motor boat purr subsides to the familiar rumble. But sleep isn't something coming to Sam Winchester easily tonight. He hears Cas shifting on the other bed across the room.

"Cas?"

"What Sam?" Comes the blunt, sleepy reply.

"Dean didn't turn back."

tbc...

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Only one more chapter to go! I'm loving this story lol. Hope y'all r too!?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

The sun light leaking through the open curtains streams into Sam's face, waking him along with the smell of fresh, hot coffee. He rolls over groaning, not even attempting to cover the obscene yawn that stretches his jaw so wide it pops a little. He drags a sluggish hand over his burning eye balls and peeks them open a sliver.

"Good morning sunshine."

Sam's head jerks towards the window and the rickety table and chairs there so fast he feels a little whiplash. He'd know that voice anywhere, and there's no way he'd mistake Cas' voice for Dean's. Sure enough he is witness to the beautiful vision of Dean sitting in one of the chairs with a coffee in one hand and two more steaming cups on the table beside a paper bag. He's got on his jeans and his plaid and his navy blue corduroy coat, he appears exactly as Sam last saw him.

"Dean." He says, a little shocked.

"Do I even want to know why I woke up butt naked in bed with you, little brother?" Dean asks, sounding VERY amused as he sips at his coffee.

Even through his shock Sam manages to blush furiously.

"Uh, you're, oh my god, you're back," Sam is up out of the bed in a moment, hands on his brother's shoulders, searching his face, "Are you okay, are you hurt? I didn't know what to do, it was so..."

Dean's face immediately turns from merry to concerned, his own hands find their way to Sam's shoulders. "Sam, it's okay," he consoles, "What are you talking about, what do you mean I'm back?"

Sam takes in shuddering breath, "Th, the witch she turned you into a cat, it wa..."

"A cat?" Dean asks, his brows coming together skeptically.

"Yeah," Sam nods, "You don't remember anything?"

Dean shakes his head, "No, I mean it just felt like waking up after a really long sleep."

Sam heaves a relieved sigh, his hands falling from his brother's shoulders as his own slump forward. "Okay...and you're fine? You don't feel like anything major is broken, or like internal bleeding or anything?"

"I'm fine Sam," Dean says again, not letting go of his little brother, "Just a little sore, my hand hurts like a bitch, but I'm fine. How about you?" He asks concerned, ducking his head to catch a look at Sam's downcast face. "Sam? You good?"

"Good Dean, just glad your back." He looks up at Dean, and his big brother smiles at the wetness there. "Me and Cas were worried you wouldn't turn back." He says a little softer.

Dean looks at him sharply, taking in the nervous way Sam was avoiding his eyes, the way his bottom lip was captured between his teeth. Sam had been worried and SCARED. The stress of the last 72 hours tells on his brother with dark bags under his eyes, his bed hair and unshaven face lends him a frazzled look.

Dean gives him a fond, reassuring smile, and ruffles his hair at the back of his head. "C'mon," he says motioning towards the other chair, "Gotcha coffee and a cinnamon roll from down the street." He winks, as he pulls the plastic container form the paper bag.

Sam takes a deep sniff of his coffee and peers at the roll as Dean places it in front of him with a plastic fork. "Oh god, I'm so glad your back."

Dean laughs, "It's good to know what you're appreciated for."

Sam rolls his eyes.

Dean walks over to Cas' bed and kicks the mattress, "Rise and shine, Cas," he says, ripping the pillow away from Cas' covered head, "Gotcha coffee."

"Dean, you know Angels don't sleep." Comes the gruntled reply.

"Yeah, whatever, you keep telling yourself that Cas." Dean taunts, eyes sparkling at Sam across the room.

Cas sits up, hair awry. "Dean, you're you!" He exclaims.

Dean nods, seating back down beside Sam, "Yeah about that, thanks for helping Sammy out."

"No problem Dean," he answers, rising from the bed in his dress slacks and socks, and wrinkled white dress shirt. He sits on the edge of Sam's bed, trench coat draped over his lap, taking the coffee Dean hands him. "I was uncertain of your transformation."

"Yeah, so Sam was saying." Dean responds, keeping an eye on his little brother, Dean thinks he doesn't look so hot.

Sam sends him a happy smile around a bite of cinnamon roll, and takes a long drink of coffee trying to chase away all the shadows and fears of the last three days.

"You were really cute." Cas says dryly, looking at Dean seriously.

Dean splutters over his mouthful of coffee, and Sam nearly chokes on his bite cinnamon roll.

"Well, he was," Cas explains to Sam's questioning look.

Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam.

Sam shrugs a little helplessly, "You were...sorry?"

Des rolls his and eyes and shakes his head, "Whatever you two, get a move on, let's blow this Popsicle stand."

Sam just about inhales the last of his cinnamon roll and drinks the rest of his coffee as he throws on his clothes. Dean packs their bags, throwing away the cat food and powdered milk held daintily between his thumb and index fingers.

"Ugh," he shivers as it falls into the bin, "Can't believe that stuff is inside me."

"Would you rather canned tuna?" Sam asks, smiling.

Cas laughs, "You loved the milk Dean."

Dean sends him a sour look.

He shakes himself and wipes his hands clean on his jeans. "Y'all ready?"

Sam nods, looking to Cas who nods too, he's ready too since he didn't bring anything.

Sam runs the key back to the front office as Dean puts their bags in the trunk. He comes back to find Dean in the front seat, with Cas sitting sulkily in the back. Sam frowns. He had planned to drive back and let Dean get some more rest.

He stops by Dean's open window, "Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, leaning down to look his brother in the eye. "I was going to drive home, so you could sleep a little."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dean says, with an easy smile on his face. "I feel like I've slept for an age," he grabs a pair of his sunglasses from the glove compartment and hands them to Sam, "You look about dead on your feet, Sammy, c'mon and sleep a little, we'll both rest better once we're home."

They both know Dean is the faster driver, and he knows the roads better. Sam sighs and rounds the impala, climbing in his seat and slipping on the glasses. Dean smiles over at him, sliding in his well worn Lynard Skynard tape. The soothing tunes of Tuesday's Gone fills the car and Sam smiles, his brother is officially back.

The impala drives somehow smoother over the asphalt with Dean behind her wheel, the world is speeding past Sam in a blur, he no longer has to worry about anything. Dean is back, Dean will take care of it all. He's put on Sam's tried and true favorite soothing song, and it's working. Sam's eyes are falling closed faster and heavier than they have in days.

He is peacefully certain of one thing as he drifts off to sleep; Dean will get them home safe and sound.

...

"Sam." He feels a soft nudging in his shoulder.

"Mhm?" He responds, not opening his eyes and trying to squirm a little farther away on the impala's seat from the aggravating movement.

"Sam, we're home, c'mon, we're home Sammy." He slowly identifies the pushing against his shoulder as Dean shaking him awake. He lifts his head from the window, blinking blearily, sleep trying to keep his eyes closed. A giant yawn breaks over his face, making Dean chuckle.

Dean gets out of the car, with their take out supper in hand, and unlocks the trunk and pulls their bags out. He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door for Sam, who is still gathering his wits about him.

"Oh man," Sam sighs yawning again, and pulling himself out of the car, only missing banging his head against the roof because Dean cups the back of his head with a hand and guides it away. "Death trap..." He complains.

Dean smacks the back of the head he just protected against his baby, "Be nice to Baby, it ain't her fault you're the jolly green giant AND clumsy."

"Am not clumsy." Sam mumbles, taking his duffle from Dean, who is trying to find his French fries in the grease-soggy, white paper bag.

"Ewwww," he states, watching his brother, whose hand comes back shiny with grease and a few fries.

"Don't worrying princess, " Dean laughs, he holds up a nice looking brown paper bag, "Yours is safe for the grease monster in here."

"Where's Cas?" Sam asks, looking around.

"He already went in," Dean laughs, "You were taking too long to wake up for him."

Sam smiles, his brother is in good spirits. He is ALIVE, which is a huge plus, and he's himself, that's nice too. And after all the stress and fear form the last few days Sam feels pretty damn good to have worked hard and pulled this all back together. He follows his brother up the stairs, and into the bunker.

They drop their bags off by their rooms and then sit down in the library to eat. Dean serves up the food, Cas brings three beers in from the kitchen. Dean purses his lips at his friend.

"Make yourself right at home, Cas." He says dryly.

"Thank you Dean," Cas says smiling, "I will." He pulls back a chair and sits across the table from Dean and Sam. Dean rolls his eyes at Sam over Cas, Sam chuckles quietly to himself. Those two.

They eat in companionable silence until Cas decides it a good idea to show Dean the pictures he took of him as a cat. Dean rolls his eyes as Sam and Cas laugh over the pictures of both their phones, but when he gets hold of Sam's phone, he bursts out laughing.

"I WAS so cute, I totally had you two wrapped around my finger." He gives them both a pointed look laughing his ass off. Sam finally has to join in, agreeing. Dean totally had him as kitty cat, those big green eyes, and the little bandaged paw...speaking of which he needs to look at Dean's hand.

Sam gets up to grab their in house first aide kit, while Dean is still cracking up over Cas playing hide and seek with his kitty self, having already cried tears of laughter over all his library shenanigans with Sam.

"Cas, seriously, you can't expect an animal to know the rules of hide and seek." Dean was saying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"It was my turn to hide, Dean, and besides you seemed extraordinarily intelligent as a feline." Cas explains calmly.

Dean looks affronted.

Sam comes back with the kit and motions for Dean to sit and face him. His brother heaves a sigh, but obeys, using his good hand to roll up his shirt sleeve. Sam grimaces at the nasty bruising snaking around his brother's forearm and wrist, shooting dark veins up into his hand and palm. There's a pink slice through the palm of his hand that's healing nicely, though the stitches must have torn out when Dean changed.

Sam feels along the forearm and wrist for any abnormalities with gentle fingers. Dean only hissing a little when he reaches the wrist.

"The vet said it was popped out of joint," he said, feeling around it carefully, "Does it feel like it popped back out?"

"You took to me to a vet?" Dean asks disbelievingly.

"I didn't know what to Dean," Sam says, soothing his brother's anger with puppy dog eyes. "There was blood, and you were a CAT, for god's sake."

Dean nods understandingly. "Okay, I'll give you that."

Sam sighs, "Alright, I'm gonna wrap it, kay?"

Dean allows it. He thinks Sam's probably earned the right to mother hen around some. Cas having filled him in on the ride home. His little brother had gone through a hell of a lot, and done a pretty damn fine job of holding up under pressure. The way Cas had described taking out that witch had sounded like that time with Gordon Walker when Sam and decapitated the hunter-turned-vamp with electrical wire. Dean in danger did scary things to Sam Winchester.

Dean watches him with appraising eyes as Sam picks out an ace bandage from their kit. He seems better then earlier at least, dark bags vanished from under his eyes. And Dean can tell his presence is calming his little brother all the time. So he smiles at him as Sam begins to wrap his wrist slowly and gently.

"I always hated witches," he declares, "And this just proves my point, their bitches."

Sam nods in ready agreement, "No arguments there." He says, smiling.

"There's one thing I don't get though," Dean says, watching the ace bandage being tenderly applied to his wrist and around his thumb.

"What's that?" Sam asks, glancing over at Cas who is obviously looking over the library's book shelves. He turns Dean's hand to suit his angle, careful not to hurt his brother.

"Why a cat? I mean witches are dumbasses, but why cats? I mean they're either one," Dean holds up one finger, "Using their bones for some ritual, or two," he holds up another finger. "They're creepy cat ladies with like a thousand of the little things, or three..." He hold up another finger, "...apparently they now turn their victims into them. I just don't get it."

He looks at Sam quizzically, obviously awaiting an answer.

Sam, who can still hear Cas' drone voice filling him in on cats and their attributes, finishes the wrapping and stands, smiling mischievously, ready to make his escape. (He's still working on getting ride of the headache Cas had given him.) Dean knows that face, Sam's up to something, he gives his little brother a questioning look.

"Cas?" Sam calls over his shoulder as he heads out of the room, "Dean wants to know, why cats?"

the end.

Thank you so much for going on this little adventure with me, hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

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